You Will Not Puke In My Car
by Enkidu07
Summary: Turns out Dean doesn’t know everything. Drabble. Challenge Word: Skin. Second chapter added in honor of IheartSam7's birthday!
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: You Will Not Puke in My Car

**Author**: Enkidu07

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. I would make them come in out of the rain if they were.

**Challenge Word**: "Skin"

**Players**: Mad Server, Onyx Moonbeam, IheartSam7, Orange Autumn, NC Girl, Nana56, MuffyMorrigan, mahtalie, Sherry Darling, supernaturalsammy67, TCB 0.5, twinchaosblade, PADavis, InSecret, deangirl1, Supernoodle, Vanessa Sgroi, moonlight80, Chailyn, Dream Painter, Enkidu07.

**For IheartSam7.**

--

"Want anything?" Dean asked through the open driver's window.

"No, I'm good." Sam paled further.

"Suit yourself." Dean left, returning with a loaded down sausage. Sam kept his gaze carefully averted from the mastication of processed pig parts.

A few miles down the road Sam fell into an uneasy sleep. At a sharp curve, he woke abruptly. "Dean."

Dean, heeding the warning in Sam's voice and the pale sheen that covered Sam's skin, intervened immediately, "Sam. You Will Not Puke in My Car." Authoritative. Calm. Confident.

Sam inhaled slowly. Carefully. Realizing with sudden clarity that sometimes Dean might actually be wrong.

--

end.


	2. Breathe

**Second chapter added in honor of IheartSam7's birthday. Happy Birthday, girl! Not a lot of SPN here... just some h/c and some fluff. Just for you.  
**

--

As the cramping curled it's way through Sam's gut, he struggled valiantly against losing it in front of Dean. His efforts caused a cold sweat to break out over his upper lip as well as along the back of his neck, prickling uncomfortably down between his shoulder blades.

He closed his eyes as the car swerved again, gritting his teeth against the pain and the nausea. The Impala jerked to a stop but Sam's world kept moving, sliding back and forth a few times before semi-settling in one place.

Suddenly a breeze poked at him as Dean opened the door at his side. He felt his brother's hands easing him to the side and he let himself be turned until his feet hit solid earth. His brother continued to shift him further forward until he was bent in half with his head hovering over the space between his knees.

"Just breathe, Sam."

Sam tried to comply, his attention shifting out of his control. One moment focused on Dean's hands massaging his muscles, one on his thigh the other on his shoulder and back, the next on the cold breeze attacking his damp face making him shiver, finally settling on the cars passing on the road behind them.

"Dean." It was a plea but even Sam didn't know what he was asking for.

Dean understood anyway. "Just relax, Sam. It's okay. Just breathe." His words and his hands created a little bubble of safety around Sam and grounded him.

He shivered again and Dean shifted to retrieve a blanket from the trunk. Sam snagged his wrist before he was able to fully rise from his crouch and whispered, "Just stay."

Dean shifted back down and instead shrugged out of his jacket, setting it over Sam's shoulders. Sam took in the scent of the worn, warm leather and his stomach settled a little.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam nodded, eyes still on the earth.

"Food poisoning?" Dean guessed.

Sam shrugged. "Nah, I'm okay."

Dean eyed him carefully and then slid his hand from Sam's shoulder till he was cupping his jaw, forcing Sam to look at him. Sam's eyes were a little glazed and drooped with exhaustion and he was still breathing carefully through tight lips. Dean slid his hand further up and felt the heat radiating from Sam's brow. "Stomach flu?" Dean guessed again.

Another shrug and Sam closed his eyes against the scrutiny, but relaxing a little in Dean's grip. "Maybe," he conceded. "Just tired. And nauseous. Just give me a minute."

A horn blared behind them on the highway and Sam stiffened again, squirming a little, feeling exposed. "It's okay, Sam. It's okay." Dean returned his grip to Sam's shoulder and his thumb began thrumming over Sam's collarbone.

When Sam's breathing became a little less labored, Dean shifted again, ducking down to catch Sam's eye. "You ready to get out of here?"

Sam swallowed and licked his lips. "Uhhh, maybe another minute. It might come back."

Dean tightened his grip fractionally and then when another shiver ripped through Sam's frame, he made up his mind. "Let's go, Sam. We can be at a hotel in a couple minutes and get you warm and comfortable."

"Dean." Sam said again, pleading without a goal.

"It's okay, Sam. A warm bed. A bathroom. Some privacy." Dean gave a wry grin to the busy highway. "It'll be okay."

He shifted Sam back into the passenger seat and with one more glance at his pale face, jogged around to the driver's side to get out of the cold wind.

As they pulled back onto the road, Sam closed his eyes, curled into Dean's jacket and let the thrum of the engine soothe him. The ache in his gut had receded and he tried to focus his attention on staying calm to keep it that way. A few minutes later, as promised, they pulled into a motel parking lot. Sam cracked an eye and glanced in Dean's direction, his eyes not quiet making it to Dean's face.

"I'm okay, Dean. If we need to keep moving, it's okay, I can probably sleep."

Dean assessed him, dipping his head to the side to catch Sam's eye. Sam met his eye but then his gaze immediately flickered away. "Sam." The cool confident calm was back in Dean's voice. "I think you underestimate the importance of you not puking in the Impala. I'll be right back. Stay here. Not puking."

Dean's words managed to elicit an embarrassed grin from Sam, but they also made him relax back into the seat while Dean jogged to the motel office.

--

Sam allowed Dean to steer him into the room. A wave of dizziness aside, he was actually feeling a little better. More stable. More relaxed. A little apprehensive that another wave of cramping could hit at any moment, but glad to be in the vicinity of a bathroom should it occur.

"You need the head or you want to hit the bed?" Dean asked.

"Bed." Sam chose immediately, his voice husky.

He let Dean tug back the covers and then push him down on the creaky mattress.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Dean chuckled and said, "Don't be. You didn't puke in the Impala. You did good."

Sam stiffened as he monitored the unsettled feeling in his gut, feeling his relaxation start to slip. A moment later, however, Dean's calloused paw settled on his forehead. The brief contact helped Sam settle and he turned his attention away from his gut and back to regulating his breathing. A second later, he was surprised when Dean's hand shifted, burrowing under the hair at the back of his neck and gently squeezing away the rest of his worry. At the contact, he forgot about trying to stay in control and relaxed into a healing sleep.

--

end.


End file.
